Birthday
by Jewcika
Summary: Stan's birthdays tended to end in disaster. CartmanKyle. Oneshot.


_Yet another old story. I really wish there were more humorous/angry!sex KyleCartman fics out there. Really, it's just a funny pairing. And all that pent up energy both of them have is bound to be released someday, right? Although, this has less KyleCartman than frustrated Stan's ramblings, really._

00

They knew it was only a matter of time, but of all days and all places, did it _have_ to be then and there?

The waiters had long stopped singing Happy Birthday in order to stare. His parents were looking on in awe at the scene before them, his father probably having come up with some way to twist this all into Stan and Kyle being Super Best Boyfriends again. As for Kenny, he had already passed away, having seemingly choked to death from his own spit upon gasping at the initial sight.

After the disasters on his previous birthdays (including accidentally killing Jesus again on his fifteenth birthday, and the FBI shooting Kenny and taking them all into custody on his sixteenth) Stan had hoped his seventeenth birthday would somewhat resemble normalcy. He supposed he just hadn't been quick enough to blow out the candles and make a wish.

Stan winced as he saw Kyle claw at Cartman's face for the umpteenth time after having his butt squeezed rather aggressively. This was definitely the most vicious tonsil hockey that had been witnessed by the town in almost five months. But who could have predicted that an argument over Cartman eating a piece of cake before the candles were blown out could cause both blood spilt and spit swapped? The four boys had all bickered rapidly back and forth for a while before Kyle and Cartman had finally seemingly gone mad.

"You're going to ruin his birthday again, Cartman!"

"Ay, I believe it was _you_ who ruined last year, Jew!"

"That was Kenny's fault, lardass!"

"Oh, so I die _and_ I'm blamed for last year?!"

"Cartman, just shut up and wait for them to finish singing. It's my cake, anyways."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Stan. I don't see _your_ super-awesome present to the birthday boy."

"I _AM_ THE BIRTHDAY BOY!"

"Cartman, just put the cake down and wait for Stan to blow out the fucking candles. Don't you _dare _take that bite, Cartman!"

"Kyle, it's cool. He ate the entire cake on my fourteenth birthday and I didn't die or anything."

"I died that year."

"Not from starvation."

"Mmm, the chocolate feels so good on my tongue. Oh, there's cream in it! Isn't it your favorite kind, Kahl? Chocolate with cherries and cream. Does the cream remind you of Stan's- AAAH!"

"Kyle, goddamnit!"

"Woo! Kick his ass, Kyle!"

"Kenny, don't encourage them!"

"Oh, great. Alright boys, break it u- oh my."

"Hey, that little orange-hooded kid is dead!"

"Who cares, look at what _they're_ doing!"

It had been five minutes. They had been going at it for five whole minutes, and more and more people were crowding into the restaurant. It was like a car crash, except gayer. Nobody could look away for reasons he could not imagine.

The same reason he had asked for a quiet, normal birthday lunch at Bennigan's was to pretend South Park was a quiet, normal town. It _had_ to be an after-church Sunday. South Park really needed more restaurants. Although most would not consider this as monumental as killing Jesus, half the town was gathered around their table. Stan was sure this would be remembered for much longer, somehow ending up with yet another rumor of him being gay. No, in a small town like South Park, homosexuality was a hotter topic of discussion than flesh-eating zombies. He could just see it now: "Did you hear about the Marsh boy's birthday? No, it's not the Baby-Throwing Gypsies Year I'm talking about, this year was even worse!" He groaned and hid his head in his arms, but the world just wouldn't grant him the sweet release of death.

"So, uh, Stan. Are you mad?"

Stan stared blankly at his dad. "About the fact that my birthday ends in barbaric happenings again, or the fact that I am now scarred for life?"

"Uh, no. About the fact that Kyle's, you know..." He didn't. "Well, he's ah, he's making out with somebody else." Randy nudged him in the ribs to try and further promote the fact that he very much thought his son was gay.

Stan slowly and without a word stood from the table, ignoring the cries of, "Wow, that Jewish kid sure can bite!"

He stood outside and surveyed the beautiful day outside. He was fully convinced that the birds and flowers were mocking him. Throwing down his Bennigan's birthday hat and crushing it with his foot, he began walking to the quiet, normal library. Next year he'd just stay home and hide in his basement.


End file.
